Death An Unwelcome Intruder Into Nasa's Circle Of Friends

SPACE CENTER, HOUSTON — From the raw rookie there were tears. From the space-jaded veteran there was a tight-jawed shake of the head.

And from a friend there were memories of Halloween and an astronaut dressed as a sheik.

In their own way, each showed how Tuesday's midair incineration of America's space-freighter plucked at the souls of the 10,000 employees who work at NASA's nerve center.

''It's been my only thought all day long. It's been my nightmare all day long,'' said Regina Rieves, a 22-year-old engineer in her fourth month of work here.

Rieves fought to keep tears from flooding her bright, blue eyes. She may be new here, she said, but she feels the comradery of those repsonsible for the nation's space program.

She tried to put on a professional's stiff upper lip to meet thoughts of the disaster that struck everyone here.

She failed. Tears flowed.

''It's human life and human life is precious,'' she said, wiping her eyes. Willie Williams thought of a Halloween party and his friend Ron McNair, a laser physics expert and NASA mission specialist.

McNair was excited about Williams' party. They became friends during the astronaut's eight years with the shuttle program. But McNair was belatedly scheduled for a session with the shuttle simulator. On Halloween night.

He came to the party in Galveston anyway, Williams said. He was dressed as an Arab sheik, stayed for an hour, then rushed back to the center and his stint with the simulator.

''He did that just to show me that he was my friend, that my invitation meant some

thing to him,'' said Williams, a 36-year-old engineer who works on the shuttle's flying instruments.

''It meant a lot to me. It always will now.''

Don Townsend, 53, has been with the space program since the Apollo 7 launch. As he watched the disaster on a television monitor, the rational mind of a professional was in control.

His first thought was to be expected of an engineer who once worked on the shuttle's boosters. Looks like an early separation, he thought, an emergency maneuver where the shuttle jettisons its massive boosters. That notion was discarded by NASA experts, he said. Then came the thoughts of a human being who had watched friends die.

''I don't know whether to be angry or sad,'' Townsend said. ''There's nothing to be angry at, so I'm sad.''

Townsend and Williams said the shuttle program is a close-knit outfit -- from the men and women who fly the missions to the engineer who operates nothing but a calculator and computer.

''We're all very close to those people,'' Williams said. ''We see them every day. They're our friends.''

Death, an infrequent visitor to space missions, is the glue that bonds this closeness.

''Everyone's aware of how serious this business is,'' Townsend said.

Said Williams: ''When you deal with people, you look each of 'em in the eye and say, ''Are those numbers right, is what you're telling me right because people's lives are at stake?' You learn who can do it and who can't.''

Before Tuesday, Americans may have taken space travel for granted. But the engineers don't, Rieves said.

''Even the guys who have been around here forever hold their breaths during a launch,'' she said.

''We outsmarted the odds for an awful long time,'' said NASA spokesman John Lawrence.